


wedding bell blues

by wrongstation



Category: Backstreet Boys
Genre: M/M, Past Underage Sex, angsty shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-14 07:49:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16488587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrongstation/pseuds/wrongstation
Summary: Set the day of Howie's wedding. Maybe a little more on the explicit side than just mature, but eh.





	wedding bell blues

You sit back and watch, head falling against the back of a generic couch that you would never put in your own home. His blond head bobs faster and faster and it's all you can see, but you know his mouth is working hard and fast. It's tugging at your cock, working you the way it has so many times before, but there's more this time. There's a desperation with every lap of his tongue, a plea behind every swallow as you hit the back of his throat. You don't want to come, but you're so close. You're teetering on the edge, and his sounds are pushing you closer to that edge, begging you to give him exactly what he wants. 

"Nick..." 

The name is reverent on your tongue, and you fist that hair - it's different now than it has been in the past. You've seen it go from short to floppy to spiky to short again, framing the face of an angel that you always thought you'd love for the rest of your life. Years ago, it was a halo to you. Framing him in holy light that you worshipped. He used to sneak into your room when he was young enough to get you arrested, tongue sneaking over plush lips that whispered words like _no one will know_ and _please Howie, just one more time_.

You never could tell him no. Not even now, not on your wedding day. He knows your body better than anyone. Better than her. Better than any woman you've ever been with. _I'm not gay_ , you'd insist. Over and over until the words stopped making sense in your own head. Not gay, not a pedophile, not unprofessional. Everything flew out the window with him. And god his mouth can work magic, just like you know the rest of his body can. This is the sort of thing that you should save for a bachelor's party - if ever. This should be a fleeting fancy, a fond memory, but it's not. It's reality and it's hot and it's wet and he _needs_ you. And god, do you ever need him. 

He looks up then, blue eyes turning on you as his lips turn into a smirk. Pink lips that always seem to be glossed, even when they're not. In these moments, you can't remember why you proposed to anyone else. You forget that it will never work. You forget that he's farther in the closet than you could ever be. You forget that Kevin would kill you and Brian would judge you and AJ would just stop talking to you. You forget that Leigh is a nice girl, a good girl, a family girl. You forget and you just let him draw that mouth along your cock. You drink it in and fist his hair and fuck up into his mouth because you need it. 

And when you come, it isn't any other name on your lips but his. "Nicky..." you gasp, flooding his mouth with hot release, your body twitching and writhing with the way he makes you feel. You slump back onto that cheap couch and he rises up, wiping his mouth with a sadness you pretend not to notice. "I..." _love you_ , your mind finishes. _Need you. Want you._ But you can't say it and he knows, and the silence falls heavy as you both desperately avoid eye contact. 

"I'll see you out there," he says, and then he's gone. 

Your toes curl in shiny black shoes and you stand up, zipping, adjusting, staring at your tuxedoed form in the full length mirror. It's time to go get married, and you tell your whimpering loins that it's for the best.


End file.
